Bigger, Better
by CarmenMauri
Summary: <html><head></head>He's imagined his future before, y'know. Many times. People wouldn't think to look at him. People always think someone as simple as Finn Hudson wouldn't think much past lunch, but that's where people—most people—are wrong. ONE SHOT.</html>


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.

**_AN: _**Slight spoilers for episode 2x20 (_Prom Queen_), so please read at your own risk. I don't want to spoil any spoiler prudes. Also, I drop a couple of F-bombs here, so ye be warned.

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><p>He's imagined his future before, y'know.<p>

Many times.

People wouldn't think to look at him. People always think someone as simple as Finn Hudson wouldn't think much past lunch, but that's where people—_most_ people—are wrong.

And as he watches Rachel dancing with her prom _date_ (he can't help but wince as he thinks the word), Jesse St Lame, he's forced to think back on all the dreams he's had. All the dreams he's almost seen come to fruition. All the dreams he's given up on. It's not that he's a pessimist; he's really a glass half-full kind of guy. It's more that something bigger, better always reminds him why his dream is stupid. Why he has no right to want what he does.

Like when he was younger—just Finn and his mom taking on the rest of the world—he used to think he'd be a soldier. Just like his dad. He'd grow up and go all over the world, fighting terrorists and liberating people. Soldiers do that, right? Anyway, he'd be so boss and the military would be like the Hudson family business. His kids would join up, too and hell... maybe even his wife would be a soldier. His mom always told him that girls could do anything boys did, right? He'd make her proud. He'd make his old man proud, too. He was sure of it.

He'd shared this ambition with his mom one day. That's when the something bigger, better intervened.

Finn's not what you would call "academic". You can ask anyone. Rachel spent _hours_ helping him pass his biology midterm last fall. He managed a B- thanks to her. That was awesome. But when it comes to knowing people, that's where Finn's intellect really shines. He just gets what makes people act a certain way. He'd never admit it, but he's good at the emotional stuff. Puck used to say it was 'cause Finn was raised by his mom, but then again, Puck was raised by Mrs Puckerman and Puck's nowhere near as good as Finn is at reading people, so Finn doesn't get why Puck would say that. Puck's... weird. But anyway.

So Finn's good at reading people. He is. And he remembers sitting down for breakfast with his mom and looking over at his dad's chair and feeling so... _full_ in his chest. He just had to tell her about his future plans. So he did.

He remembers her forced smile. Her tense shoulders. He remembers her strained voice when she told him that was a "_really good dream_". But most of all, he remembers that full feeling evaporating as quickly as it came.

Something bigger, better than him reminded him how sad he knows she is. How he can sometimes hear her muffled conversations with his dad late at night. And even though Finn was only nine at that time, he knew that this dream just wasn't meant to be.

He idly wonders how Rachel would react if he'd told her of that dream. Would she force a smile? Would she blink back tears? He shakes his head. No; Rachel would think before reacting, absorbing his words and formulating a careful response. As mean as he claimed she was in December, he knows she has everyone's best interests at heart. Knows how epically enormous her heart really is.

She'd probably encourage him to do it. Would tell him to reach for the stars and never stop until he touches them. She would probably pull out her day-planner and would set a date for them so they could plan their lives together. She in New York City, while he'd be away at some training camp down south. He can't help but smile at that.

He watches, feeling possessive of her, as Jesse's hands slide down her back and Finn catches himself before he's out of his seat and pummeling the _shit_ out of St Dickmunch.

God. It feels good to swear at that smug bastard. (Even if he can't hear him.)

Jesse's probably had the same dream as Rachel. Has probably won the same awards that she has. Was probably in the pageant circuit at the age of three. Probably had lucious locks then, too, Finn thinks with a smirk.

Finn figures that no one ever made Jesse feel as though his dreams were too big... too good for him.

Like that time Finn was positive he and Puck's kickass band _Extreme Forecast_ (the name was a work-in progress) would be asked to play Timmy Akerman's party back in freshman year. Finn knew that the older football player's parties were legendary and he knew that if he and Puck played one of his parties, they'd be guaranteed rock legends at McKinley. The future flashed before his eyes, then: he and Puck would be asked to play at homecoming, prom, Sadie Hawkins... You name the dance, Extreme Forecast would be there. They'd even play during the football game's half-time show (Finn didn't even care that it was impossible, given that their team sucked giant balls, but he went with it). And then, through some cosmic miracle, some big-shot agent from LA or New York would spot their set and the rest was a cakewalk.

Parties.

Girls.

Money.

Girls.

His future was gold.

But the night of Akerman's party, neither Finn nor Puck received that coveted text. They weren't even invited. It sucked. They were on the team, but no one really wanted them there. So, he swallowed his disappointment and went along with Puck's plan: they scored booze at the 7-Eleven and got shit-faced. Party for two, but it still counted.

No one knew how terrible he'd felt then. Not even Puck. Truth was, Puck kinda shrugged off the fact that Timmy Akerman didn't want them there. It was no big deal for him. He still had his rock and roll dreams (he got his nipple pierced later that year to prove how "rock'n'roll" he was). But Puck's dad was a known bad-ass and was, apparently (in the words of Puck's mom and grandma), kind of a rock star in his own right, so it makes sense that Puck never gave up. But Finn, he's a simple dude who got caught up in the magic of his dreams. The fact they didn't get that text was a sign. It had to be. Someone bigger, better was letting him down easy. Was saying, "Look kid, you're a good person, but this rock'n'roll stuff is for the big boys. Go find yourself a new dream."

So he did.

He thinks it's funny how he used to have the same dream as Rachel. Wanting to be a rock star and all that. He can relate to her about that. Not that he's never wanted the same things she has. 'Cause he totally has. He thinks they're kinda alike in a lot of ways: they both want to be happy, they both want to be well-liked, they both want glee club to do well, they both want glee club to go the distance... They both wanted _them_ to go the distance. They both wanted...

He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head, trying to clear the overwhelming guilt in his chest.

Who cares if he once dreamed of being a rock star? He'll never get there. But Rachel? She'll be a star in every sense of the word. He knows one day her face will be all over New York City. And that busy place in downtown New York? The one that Rachel fawned over when they were planning on rigging the duets competition—what was it she called it? Oh right. Times Square. He knows her face will be all over that place one day. And who knows? Her face might just make it on cereal boxes and on television! He chuckles, feeling giddy at her imagined success.

He wets his lip, letting his eyes focus on her as she pours herself a glass of punch. He leans back against the bleachers, staring after Quinn as she buzzes through the crowd, laughing breezily as though prom is her personal party. Her blue dress making her look like that fairy from Pinocchio. The one that comes down from that one big star. She even has the same blond hair. He tilts his head back and winces a bit as the back of his head makes contact with the hard wooden bench of the bleachers. Still, he thinks he deserves it for calling his girlfriend a blue fairy.

If only she _were_ a fairy. Then maybe his stupid dreams would come true. Maybe then he'd get a do-over and he wouldn't be stuck at _prom_ wearing a ridiculous monkey suit and tie. A tie that matches Quinn's blue gown. He wishes he'd matched Rachel's pink frilly dress, instead. But why should he wish for something bigger, better than the stuff he has? When will he ever be happy with what he has?

He runs a hand through his hair and Quinn catches his eye. She lifts a thin eyebrow, telling him to be careful. Reminding him that his hair has to be fucking picture perfect. Fuck. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

He smiles tightly at her and his eyes wander back to Rachel. He doesn't even really see Jesse now. Not really, anyway.

Not when he sees the future he used to see.

Finn shakes his head again. He's falling into old habits again. Ever since he heard Rachel sing at Regionals, it's getting harder for him to remember to forget. To really let himself go with the flow, again. It made him want things he shouldn't want anymore. It made him question his new life. And dammit. He _shouldn't_ want what he does. He should be happy with what life's given him, right?

_Right_?

He isn't supposed to want bigger, better.

He's supposed to go with the flow.

But ever since he met her, this tiny ball of energy that literally blazed into his life and soared right into his heart, settling there, getting comfy and making herself right at home in his head and heart, he only craved bigger and better. So really it's her fault. He's had a taste of bigger, better and he never wanted to let go.

But then she did.

She gave up on them. Gave up on the dreams they shared. Gave up on the promises they made. What's he supposed to do? Ignore the ache in his chest and the booming voice in his head that keeps telling him to "just go with it!"? Something bigger, better than him put him in his place. And now he's stuck.

Before he knows it, Quinn's standing in front of him and is tugging on his hand, urging him to dance with her. "It's just one dance, Finn," she hisses, still managing to smile at the masses. Finn can't help but roll his eyes, placing his oversized hands around her waist and feeling as her lithe body presses against his as a gentle melody fills the gymnasium. He closes his eyes, reminding himself that it'll be over soon. Once Quinn fulfills this psychotic dream or whatever, he can go back to not caring about prom or school spirit or whatever the hell new thing Quinn's raving about. But as the wheels in his head spin, he realizes how unfair he's being.

_This_ ridiculous dance is Quinn's dream. Shouldn't he make the most of it for her? He wills himself to look at her, but when he does open his eyes, they land on Rachel. Finn knows, just by looking into her big-wonderful-always-get-lost-in-them eyes that something's off, but just when he's close to finding out what, her expression changes and it's as though she's been hit with a jolt of new life. She's beaming at him, so happy he knows it's forced. He wants to talk to her, but there's something gripping him by the waist and he can't move. He makes a motion to remove the vice-like grip from his body, but when he looks down, he suddenly remembers.

Quinn.

He looks back up to look at Rachel, but he only sees Mercedes and Kurt. And neither of them look too happy with him.

Leave it to him to mess everything up.

He runs his hand through Quinn's hair, staring at the golden strands as though they're the cause of all his problems. He lets the strands fall through his fingers and looks up at the cieling, staring at the stars the decorating committee hung up. A committee that Rachel headed, of course. Evidence of Rachel's decorating prowess is on everything he sees. Her obsession with stars reminding him why she's so... great. Really, she is. She's the only person he knows who's favourite shape is a star. Hell, he doesn't even think he _has_ a favourite shape. But if he really had to choose, his favourite shape would be a star, too. Just because of her. Because they represent _her_.

And really, Rachel is a real, live star. She's tiny, sure, but the way she holds herself makes her bigger than anybody in the room. She's small, definitely, but her voice carries far and wide and reaches everyone. She's larger than life. She's bigger, better than anyone he's ever met. More talented than the guy who juggles chainsaws. And he had her. He could've had her and every magical, wonderful thing that came with her if it hadn't been for the fact that something bigger, better stepped in.

He has no right to want that. He has no right to wish he could have a do-over. He'll never have bigger, better.

And he really should just deal with it.

Like that time his mom went up to him, the applications for those music scholarships he'd printed (but forgotten about) in her hand, and asked him if music was something he dreamed about. He didn't know what to say. The last time they'd discussed his future, he'd been nine years old and full of stupid dreams. He really had thought he'd make a good soldier. But his mom looked genuinely interested as she sat down next to him on his bed. She'd placed a warm hand on his and remembered how Emerald-Dreams-Darren had been so impressed with Finn's singing. She thought he was a great singer, too. And with the way Finn played the drums, she was certain he could go far with music.

But, _honey_, was music really what he wanted?

Finn knew that he would never be a soldier. It would be too devastating for his mom. Not to mention, the thought of actually killing someone really freaked him out. It was one thing to shoot zombies and mutants and bad guys on X-Box, but it was another to do so in real life. So really, no thank you. Do not want.

Finn knew he'd never be a rock star. Hearing the way Mrs Puckerman and Puck went on about his dad left him with mixed feelings on the subject. On one hand, Mrs P was so angry with her ex that being a rockstar just seemed like something only deadbeats did for a living. There was nothing glamorous in ditching your wife and two kids, no matter how bad-ass it made you seem. But the way Puck talked about it, there would be chicks everywhere. And while Finn though that would be fun for like a minute, he wasn't too sold on that aspect of that career pathway, either.

But music... it made him happy. And, sure, he knew he'd never make a career out of it, but if it helped him figure it out on the way, why not?

And, plus, the way Rachel went on and on about music made his heart do funny things. And the way he felt when he heard her sing? It was like an out of body experience. Hair standing on end, sweaty palms, shivers going down his spine, just... wow. And singing _with_ her? Indescribable.

His mom gave him a funny look then, but squeezed his hand, nonetheless. "_If you have a dream_," she'd said, "_go for it_."

So he took those applications to Miss Pillsbury. Basked in her compliments and felt like he was walking five feet off the ground. And then Rachel slapped him. But he really can't blame her. He'd been selfish—so selfish—but he just wanted to do the right thing. Wanted to do something to help Quinn out of something he thought he caused. He shuts his eyes, blocking out the pain. Trying to forget the hurt. (He just finds it harder to remember to forget these days.) Shakes his head. Trying to wipe the memory clean. And yeah. He'll admit that being with Rachel was addictive and he just really wanted to pretend that everything was all right. So going bowling had been selfish because he got to live out his fantasy with Rachel, while ensuring he'd dor right by Quinn. (He never said he was selfless.) But even after Rachel had slapped him, he still wanted that dream. Even after she reminded him how much better she was than him—because she might be five feet two inches of fierce determination and talent, but that alone makes her stand higher than him, higher than anyone, really—he couldn't let go of that dream.

He decided he would just deal with wanting it and hoped that maybe, this dream was _it_.

The music ends and Quinn releases her hold on him. He looks down at her and manages a small smile. She looks momentarily concerned, but she quickly dismisses him with the flick of her wrist and a gentle, "Go." She smiles sadly up at him then and turns on her heel. Maybe Quinn's good at reading people, too, he thinks.

He rushes up to Kurt and Mercedes, but they both shrug when he asks where Rachel's gone.

Dammit.

He swallows hard and turns to go back to his spot on the bleachers, already feeling outdone by forces bigger, better than him, when he feels Kurt's hand on his arm. He stares at Finn for a long time, his intense gaze making Finn feel as though his head is five sizes too large. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, but Kurt lets him go, telling him that Rachel's asked Jesse to take her home. Finn smiles at his step-brother, thankful that he's not angry enough at him to keep Rachel's whereabouts a secret from him. He looks back at Quinn, smiles when he catches her eye and sprints out of the gym. He's out of breath when he reaches his car, but he pulls the door open and starts the car up.

He doesn't know what he's doing. But he knows that no matter what he does or doesn't deserve—if he'll ever get bigger, better back again—he needs to talk to Rachel.

He speeds through the streets, convinced that he needs to talk to her.

When he reaches her house, he shuts the motor off and just sits there, staring up at her window. Her light is on and he's so grateful that Jesse's Range Rover isn't in the driveway. He knows that that would be one blow too many and, truth is, Finn can't take any more.

He rubs his palms against his pants and chuckles. He knows that nothing will change what's happened. She let go. Something bigger, better than him ruined the moment and she let go.

"_Are we a part of something special? You and me?_"

And for one heart-stopping moment, he thought she'd say no. But when her soft "_yes_" came out, he didn't want anything but to hold her. Remind her that it didn't matter that he'd lost his virginity to Santana. It didn't matter that they'd spent the most excrutiating week avoiding one another. What mattered was that he _loved _her. She chose to include _him_ in that picture perfect example of something that was special. Bigger, better than so many other somethings. Because the something they had meant so much more than anything else either of them had ever been a part of. That included glee. That included football. That included _Cabaret_. That included her and Jesse. That included him with Quinn.

She chose him.

It was her decision.

And that's when the light goes on.

He shakes his head, realizing after all this time that yeah. She let go, but he did, too. Didn't he? He _chose _to break up with her. He did. After he'd promised he'd never break up with her. Something bigger, better didn't stand in their way. He did. He looks back up at her window, suddenly terrified. He's a coward. She's too big, too good, too _everything_ for him. But from the moment she sang to him, she's been starring in all of his dreams.

Even when she shouldn't have been, she was there.

Like their first glee practice—the one she claimed she'd made a fool of herself at. He'd been intimidated by her sheer force and presence; knowing that despite her small stature, she was strong. The way she'd gripped his hand, forcing him to follow her in the choreography, had been further proof of that. No one that... _little _in height should be able to move someone as enormous as he is. But she had and Finn knew he was in over his head with her. 'Cause it wasn't just that she was physically strong. There was this glint in her eye that just screamed how tough she was. Was proof to the things she could do.

And that was after one meeting with her. He'd been so worked up. He'd gone home, played some video games, went for a jog. Needing to blow off steam. His body was too tense to let him sit still. He showered, went to bed. Still, his mind raced. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. But as he lay in bed, he was overcome by the need to look for Rachel under his bed. So he did. Finn smiles at the memory. He was so fucking dense. Even as he looked under his bed for her, he remembers feeling oddly disappointed that her huge brown eyes didn't blink up at him. That was the first night he dreamed of her.

And those dreams? They only got more wet. More detailed. More vivid.

But soon afterward, as they got closer (hanging out making flyers, hanging out during glee, hanging out in-between classes), she starred in other dreams. He imagined her singing with him in front of scouts from music colleges, smiling _that_ smile. Looking at him with _those_ eyes that make him think he's indestructible. Tougher than the Hulk. Bigger, better than he is. Than he can ever hope to be, really. But she was there. And she stayed there. He dreamed of writing to her from university at OSU. Telling her about his day-to-day. Loving when she emailed back, encouraging him, telling _him_ about _her_ day-to-day.

And those dreams only got better when they started dating. They took on a life of their own and he knew that having something bigger, better was like having an all-access pass to every great thing in life. And after you've had a taste of something so life-changing, how can you go back? How do you just settle? He's an idiot for thinking he ever could. It only took him since December to figure that one out. Duh.

He takes a breath and pulls the handle, pushing himself out of the car.

He knows his dreams have changed. Rachel would say they've evolved.

He knows he might have missed his shot at this particular dream. He would say he's blown it, actually.

But he's made too many wrong decisions already. Has already given up too many times. Something bigger, better was never telling him to give up. It was telling him to try harder. And isn't Rachel worth all of that extra effort?

He stands in front of her front door and wills himself to knock.

Bigger and better is just behind that door.

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><p><strong><em>AN:<em>** To be perfectly honest, writing Finn was tough for me, especially because we haven't really been given any insight into his head since _Silly Love Songs_, when he told Quinn that he basically felt as though neither she nor Rachel ever truly loved him, since they didn't care enough to protect him from getting hurt (poor bb!). But I needed to write this one-shot as therapy. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the fic and, if you could, I would really love to hear your thoughts. I only ask that you don't bash Finn. I don't mean for this fic to make anyone think less of him. Thanks :)


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